


Christmas at MI6

by dohaihoangnam



Series: The MI6 Holiday Specials [1]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: James is a bastard, M/M, Poor Q, Q doesn't appreciate the gesture every much, and James if you're on his side, cross-dressing, he just wants Q to wear the dress, ooc, who doesn't give a fuck what Q thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dohaihoangnam/pseuds/dohaihoangnam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James insists on Q wearing the dress he picked for him at the MI6 Christmas party. Q, however, has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas at MI6

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not exactly Christmas. But it just came to me and all I could do was write it out. This is my first 00Q fic and un-beta'd, so don't kill me if it doesn't come out right or if there's a mistake.

“No, James. There is no way in hell that I’m gonna wear that ridiculous dress and heels to the Christmas party,” Q said as James showed him a silver cocktail dress and a pair of Louboutin high heels in the Q-branch break room.

It was that time of year once more, the end of year. And despite every attempt to keep things professional, MI6 still couldn’t let their festive senses ignored. If you entered HQ right now, you would see tinsels hanging on every corner of MI6, a few mini-Christmas trees every few desks, and a giant one in the lobby, and Christmas music playing softly in the background.

Q-branch wasn’t exempt, either. It was more subtle, though, which is clearly acceptable for a place full of geniuses who couldn’t get a social life. But, unlike all corners of the building, Q-branch was the only place where the people were hard-working enough to make their own decorations. The minions weren’t very creative, however. Every desk’s only decoration was a mini-Christmas tree made from scrap metal, with an occasional small ornament every many desks.

There were many more decorations in the break room. Tinsels hanging on every visible millimetre on the walls, a Christmas tree on all four corners of the room, ornaments clouding up the branches, there were even tinsels and ornaments on the tables.

Yep, MI6 is a little crazy on the tinsels and ornaments.

Okay, maybe a lot.

 _Okay_ , they’re  _obsessed_.

James turned the dress around so he could see what the problem was. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

Q snatched the dress from James’ hold. “Well, maybe it’s  _this_ ,” he said while holding a big red ornament. “Or maybe it’s  _this_ ,” he said while tugging the blue tinsels. “I have fucking  _tinsels_ and  _ornaments_ on my dress. Mind you, I’m comfortable wearing a dress. But, if I wear  _this,_ ” He stopped to show James the dress. “I’m gonna look like a fucking Christmas tree. Like that one over there.” He pointed at the tree on the far right corner. “Or that one.” He diverted his finger to the opposite corner. “Or that one.” He turned around to point at the one that was once behind him. “Or that one.” He changed to his left hand to point at the tree on his left.

“ _And_ , if I was little bit more subtle, I’ll turn into  _that_ ,” he continued while pointing to the table nearest to them, which was thankfully empty. The rest of the room, unfortunately, wasn’t. Both of them could’ve sworn he heard whispers and giggles.

“Come on, Q. It doesn’t look  _that_  bad.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, shall we?”

* * * * *

It was a few minutes later when Q came out with a completely new appearance: blonde hair, new face, the dress and shoes James bought for him. He stopped and strategically stood next to one of the Christmas trees in the break room. “See?”

“You know, if you look closely enough, you  _do_  look like a Christmas tree,” James said.

The “duh”, although not said, lingered in the air like a mistletoe hanging on a ceiling. “Well, too late to buy another one,” he said after pausing for a moment to look at the two Christmas trees he’s looking at right now. He was right, after all. It was already half past eight, and the people who were in the room before had come out to the “party hall”, as the people liked to call it. They never knew what its official name was.

“Fine,” Q said, walking towards James. “But you are  _not_  telling anyone that all  _this,_ ” he gestured at himself. “Is me.”

“But then people would ask me where were you, love. And you know how I hate questions,” James said with a fake pout and pulled the puppy dog face.

“You know too well that puppy dog faces don’t work on me.”

“If they had, we wouldn’t be having a conversation about how stupid you say you look in that dress.”

“You’re still defending your clothing choice? That’s it. I’m wearing my cardigans and that’s  _final,_ ” the Quartermaster said as he walked out of the break room.

“Yes, dear.”


End file.
